Burn Up With You
by SlvrSoleAlchmst1
Summary: Ray hatches a plan to confuse Mama that involves faking an attraction to Norman... but he discovers fake-kissing Norman actually feels nice. (I haven't read the manga; please excuse any inconsistencies on that account, and... try not to spoil me, haha.)


Ray could barely believe he and Norman had gotten punched by Don last night. Then again, he should have seen it coming.

He touched the injured spot against his cheek. Mama had patched it up for him. She now thought Ray had gotten into a fight with Norman... but how long would she believe that lie?

Ray sighed and let his hand fall back onto the grass where he now lied outside. It all would have been easier if Ray and Norman hadn't gotten punched in the first place. But there hadn't seemed to be a correct moment to let Don and Gilda into the escape plan loop before Don grew frustrated. Even if Emma especially believed they'd been wrong to keep secrets, there was no going back and finding the proper moment to clue Don and Gilda in and thus avoid the punching incident. There was no such thing in life as a 'perfect moment,' 'perfect opportunity,' or the 'opportune moment' to act at all.

That was mostly because Mama was in charge, and Mama was too strong and too clever an opponent to create easy openings. And Ray — as much as he hated to admit it — was only a child, whose methods of standing up to her were limited. He knew it by now — and so he tried not to waste time on regret or on beating himself up for any mistakes. He tucked both hands behind his head. The important thing was _fixing_ any mistakes and striving never to make them again. One had to act in one's best interest, and quickly, whether there seemed to be a good moment or not.

He watched the clouds pass above him, morphing into and out of mysterious shapes. Normally, he would have been reading under his tree... but right now he was trying to feign listlessness on the open hillside as he thought more about the next stage of their plot.

Norman and Emma needed a chance to scope out a view of the outside world from on top of the wall — and Ray was supposed to provide a distraction so Mama wouldn't notice them. He had an idea of what he would do. But he didn't have enough _backup _plans in case his first plan went wrong, and that was the part that bugged him. For the first time in a long while, Ray had begun to feel nervous again. Walls already surrounded him and had for as long as he'd lived... but now he felt them closing in. So here he was, trying to steal a moment for himself. This autumn wasn't very warm, but he'd begun breaking a sweat.

_Calm down, _he tried to tell himself, glaring up at the clouds, _and think. Think as if Emma and Norman's lives depend on it. Because they do._

Mama must be defeated at all costs.

A tread on the grass near his head made him freeze... until a moment later, when he realized the tread was Norman's.

Ray didn't react as Norman sat himself down in the grass, facing the same direction on the side of the hill that Ray faced. Norman sighed... and then also lied down, mimicking Ray's sprawl, staring up at the clouds.

"Do I dare ask how your reconnaissance and planning went with Emma, Don, and Gilda?" Ray murmured once Norman had settled.

Norman didn't look at him. "We got caught by Sister," he exclaimed. "She followed us and overheard everything we said."

Ray's heart thundered deafeningly in his chest. His eyes flew wide — and he felt a bead of moisture trickle down his temple toward his ear. But he didn't move. He simply asked, "So you lied a lot, and fooled her so you all still seemed innocent... right?"

"About that," Norman said — monotone.

Ray swallowed, trying to take heart from the fact that at least Norman retained _some_ ability to remain calm in appearance. So it couldn't be _that _bad, right?

"We'll tell you more tonight," Norman said, "and discuss it at sundown with all five of us. I don't want to share the details yet. Not here." He must have been afraid they would get overheard.

If Norman thought it could wait, then it wasn't worth Ray's panicking over now. Still, his heart rate went crazy, damn it. He wanted to confirm a few things before he could actually calm down and match Norman's level of acceptance. "Is Sister still roaming around?"

"Don and Gilda made an excuse to take her around the back side of the House to play a game of tag again with the young ones. And Emma should be at the top of the hill right now, just above us with the rest," Norman said.

Ray relaxed at last. "Emma is where Mama is."

"Yes. Mama has been watching you," Norman said. "She was watching you even before I came to join you here."

Ray knew. But now, at least, Emma could try to distract Mama from him and Norman a bit. "It's _weird_ that you came to lie down here with me," Ray said. Even if Norman had wanted to give him important information about Sister, he shouldn't have done it now. "I told Mama we'd had a fight, remember? She thinks you're trying to kill her, and I'm trying to dissuade you."

The sound of another of Norman's sighs reached Ray under the breeze. "Kill her, huh?" But then Norman shook his head and changed the subject back to them. "If you and I were fighting for real," Norman said, "we'd make up. I'm sure Mama realizes that, and thus expects it to happen. And if it's within her realm of expectation, she should let it occur without interfering. In other words, we're safe right now."

Norman thought they would make up with each other?

No, that was wrong. Ray hadn't planned to allow it to look as if they'd talk again at _all_. It was better to keep Norman at a distance after their fake fight, to ease Mama's suspicions.

Norman was ruining Ray's plans.

Norman shifted, and for a moment his elbow fell to rest so it brushed Ray's. When Ray looked over, scowling, about to voice his protest... Norman moved again and touched the gauze on his own cheek that covered his bruise that matched Ray's.

Ray's protests died as he wondered if Don's punch had hurt Norman more or less than it had hurt him.

"Didn't _you _realize we'd make up, Ray?" Norman asked, when all Ray did was keep scowling in silence. "Or did you think this meant we'd have to fake being enemies from now until the escape time? Isn't it more realistic that I'd come crawling back to you... even after a brawl, to extend my hand again in friendship?" Norman sounded a little wry — maybe even somewhat disappointed in Ray for not reaching the same conclusion.

Ray considered. And then he laughed under his breath.

He dropped one wrist over his eyes.

He recalled Norman's confrontation with him when Norman had realized Ray was the traitor, Mama's informant from the beginning. At that time, instead of use Ray to the utmost, Norman had put all his cards on the table and demanded Ray join his side. Demanded that Ray escape with them. Demanded Ray stay friends with him and Emma.

Norman had refused to let Ray go.

So yes, it _did _make sense that he'd want to make up after a fistfight also.

Ray's lips curled, but he felt more stricken and confused again than amused. Norman didn't know when to quit... and thus he took too many risks and made things more complicated.

But either way, no matter what, Ray didn't intend to stay friends with them past his own nearing date of shipment. "You don't know when to give up," he murmured. "Just leave it alone, would you?"

"I can't," Norman exclaimed, serene. "You're right that I don't give up. So here I am to relax with you, and 'make up' with you regarding our fake argument. It's believable, isn't it."

Ray laughed again. "What a pain."

Norman chuckled and answered, "Mm. I am... and Emma is. But here you are, still friends with us."

If Mama still watched them, Ray imagined this exchange of theirs must look well enough like a make up of some sort. Like the first awkward, tentative steps into forgiving each other for their transgressions. That meant if he and Norman both strove to keep up the pretense, they could continue talking here without Mama getting curious or suspicious enough to walk down the hill to interrupt them or listen in. Norman was right. For now they were safe.

In other words, this was a chance Ray needed to make good use of. If Norman insisted on remaining tight-lipped until sunset regarding Sister and the status of their main escape plan... then this respite was Ray's opportunity to continue hatching back-up plans.

He refocused on the sky and considered Mama's advantages again.

The only way to work around Mama was to sneak around, make her underestimate you, then take your chances. Connive, manipulate, lie the best you could to cover your trail, and then act even knowing part of your calculations had no choice but to be blind ones. The sun beat down on Ray's face, reminding him that Mama, the House, Headquarters were nearly as irrefutable as its burning blaze. Every waking moment of Ray's life felt stuffed with layers of plans and plots, cover-ups and lies and truths designed to protect himself and his friends from them. Ray had begun to grow weary pulling puppet strings and grasping desperately at straws or trump cards. If he could have predicted it would get like this when he'd begun his master plans... Well, no use thinking about _that_.

Mama and her wrath were _nearly _as irrefutable as the burning blaze of the sun... but not completely. Ray had already concluded he could delay his own shipment date until he turned twelve, then been able to tailor that plan into one that included arson, suicide, and revenge that would secure an escape for his two best friends. If Mama was near irrefutable like the sun, then Ray was just as brilliant at least. He was a burning star, too, but hiding so deep in space that Mama wouldn't notice how brightly he shined until too late.

He knew he was capable. He _was_.

So why did he keep feeling like a noose closed tighter on his neck? Norman made things more complicated, yes, but Ray still should have been able to handle this.

"You're very tense," Norman muttered. "Are you all ri—"

"I'm faking extra tension so Mama can see it and won't think I'm forgiving you too easily for our argument," Ray lied. He was fine, damn it. Or he would be. This much wasn't enough to defeat him.

"In that case," Norman replied, "I had better pretend to be a little more desperate to win your friendship back, to beat your resistance."

Norman began to sit up, like he'd lean over Ray and start fake-imploring him to listen to apologies — but Ray stuck out an arm and sent him thudding back onto the ground. "Don't," he said, knowing that from above the action would make him look fed-up, still hesitant and resentful despite his willingness to relax beside Norman. They might as well ham it up, this awkward make up session. Ray whispered, "Don't distract me for a moment."

"You're plotting something?" Norman whispered back.

"I would be, if you would actually shut up so I could think."

Norman snickered, but fell silent. Ray had no idea how Norman could stay so calm and not need time to furiously think himself, considering he'd just had a run-in with Sister before this. Norman had better not be looking down on Ray for requesting silence.

The grass pricked his back through his shirt when he shifted and tried to slow down his breathing. The laughter of the younger children scampering about on the hilltop above him echoed. He ignored it. What new tricks could he come up with to ensure he kept Mama guessing about his true intentions? How could he keep himself useful to Mama so she wouldn't stop trusting him or decide to ship him or his friends out early?

Norman's fingers brushed his once, as if to pass him silent strength. Ray twitched away from the gesture... but then he reflected on it.

Norman. If Norman was here right now, that might provide an opportunity. If Ray could further use or build on the premise of their fake argument... maybe he could weave some further fake story that Mama would get tangled in, as she tried to analyze the two of them to decipher meaning and intention.

"Hey. Norman." Ray spoke quietly.

Ray now began to develop a plan — a chance to execute yet another small tactic, lay yet another tiny piece of track he might be able to follow out of Mama's quagmire later, if something else were to go wrong.

Norman's blue eyes opened; he had closed them against the sunlight. "Mm?"

Ray looked at the boy askance, wanting to judge his mental state. "Are _you _all right?" he asked bluntly.

Norman hesitated a long time. Then he just smiled and said, "No. But if you want to run something by me, I'm ready and will handle it."

"You're getting smarter," Ray replied, almost proudly. "Stronger. Understanding how imperative it is we push ourselves even when we're already beyond our limits." This was why... this ability and adaptability was _exactly_ why Ray admired Norman, and why Norman and Emma must live. They'd be the hope outside the farm walls for the rest of humanity.

"It's not something you have to praise me for. It's just that I know we don't have the luxury to let our nerves get to us when we're so short on time." Norman's smile flickered, but he shifted position again and rested one arm across his stomach. "Go ahead — what are you thinking?"

Ray said, "What if we pretend our argument and this make up attempt only snowballs?"

"As in, it doesn't actually get resolved, after I come here to convince you that we should cooperate again and stay friends?" Norman's rising tone sounded skeptical. As if he couldn't believe that even in a hypothetical situation, he'd fail to win Ray over so the two of them were fine again.

Ray rolled his eyes and worded it differently. "What if we pretended the tension kept mounting, into something even _we_ couldn't predict or control?"

"In other words," Norman said slowly, his eyebrows crunching together in a frown, "pretend to be permanent enemies until the escape time after all?" He sat up afterward and pressed a hand against his head. From above on the hill where Mama stood, it surely looked like Norman grew frustrated.

They were still playing their roles well through their actions. Perfect.

But Norman still didn't actually understand. Ray squinted his eyes shut and said, "No. No, that's not what I mean at all." Norman wasn't very quick to catch on after all... but Ray wasn't sure he could blame him.

Norman muttered, "I don't follow."

Ray tried again, monotone, casual. "If we considered each other _enemies_ still, that would be too straightforward. I want to put more uncertainty into the situation. Make Mama think even _we_ aren't sure how to proceed with or predict each other. If we aren't sure about each other, that'll make it more difficult for her to anticipate our moves. You can't predict something that's unexpected or all over the place."

A mess. Chaos. That was what Ray wanted to set up between them.

Ray wanted to create a special brand of drama and ratchet up the tension between himself and Norman — enough that Mama turned uncertain.

Norman digested that for a moment and said nothing, which must have meant he still agreed that executing something unexpected always made for a decent advantage. "But Mama knows how well we know each other," he said after a moment more, "and for how _long _we have. What could either of us possibly do that would conceivably make the other one, or even make Mama believe we had confused each other or caused tension enough that we'd hesitate in cooperating together on a next move?"

Now they were getting somewhere. Ray took a deep breath. He sat up too and said, "Glad you asked." He gave up trying to enact his plan with words; he hooked an arm around Norman's shoulders from in front and pushed Norman back to the grass.

As Norman thudded down again with his face turned toward the sky, Ray ignored the sound of surprise from his lips and positioned himself tactically.

He draped the arm he'd pushed Norman down with across Norman's chest, settling his hand over Norman's heartbeat. Then he placed his ear against Norman's chest, too, letting the weight of his head settle there. When Norman tried to pull his legs up to move, Ray hooked a knee around Norman's closest thigh to keep Norman pinned to the ground.

They lied there, snugged as closely and intimately as if they shared a bed and took a nap.

"You're right," said Norman, "This is unexpected and all over the place."

Ray snickered into Norman's sweater. "Isn't it?"

"I'm assuming you have a good reason for this. But I'm still not sure I get it."

Ray snickered at the awe and hint of tightness lacing Norman's tone. "You really don't?"

Norman kept quiet and just waited for Ray's explanation.

But Ray didn't give one right away. His fingers wandered across Norman's chest. He needed a moment to become familiar, or he couldn't play his role with any finesse. Ray needed it to look as if they might have done something like this before. Or like _he_, at least, had contemplated or daydreamed about doing it, and now executed it in reality. And, too... if Ray was honest with himself, he felt a little curious. It wasn't for some years that he'd been _this_ physically close to either Norman or Emma.

The body of another living person was so comforting. So soft and warm.

He played with the edge of Norman's sweater, letting his fingers curl around its collar. The collar's soft fibers caught on the roughness of his skin, on the coarseness caused because his hands were too dry and his fingertips callused from always pulling apart whatever reward items Mama bequeathed him with, rebuilding them into something that would destroy their ear transmitters... He almost worried he would ruin the perfection of Norman's sweater, until he remembered that whatever humans had the gall to live free outside while they stayed trapped here in the House would just make Norman another, and ship it in to them like everything else. Ray grit his teeth a moment and became a little rougher, gripping the topmost button at Norman's chest and wondering whether he should tear it off, whether that would make him feel better somehow.

But instead, he calmed himself. He simply rolled the button between his fingers and remarked the steady rise and fall of Norman's chest beneath his hand.

"I think I get it _now_," Norman finally said.

"Oh?"

"The tension and confusion that you want to create from the embers of our fake argument, that you want Mama to think we're grappling with... You want it to look like it comes from us struggling with mixed feelings of resentment... but _also_ deeper affection for each other. You want us to appear confused about whether we want to punch each other again... or do... something else. Something like this. Cuddling? Relying on each other, showing each other extra vulnerability and seeking physical comfort from each other?"

Ray's grin probably looked frightening, but he hid it against Norman's chest and said, "Bingo." Norman's chest rose and fell a little quicker. "But you're still sounding too delicate. Let me get even more direct and drive it home irrefutably."

Ray lifted his head from Norman's chest, then his whole upper body from the grass. He rolled over, swinging a leg to straddle Norman across the hips.

While Norman's eyes widened, Ray captured Norman's wrists and pinned Norman's arms to the grass above his head.

"What's this?" Norman whispered, still calm, though Ray couldn't remember ever seeing his blue so wide before — in something like wonder and perhaps a tiny bit of amusement.

Ray didn't enjoy being patronized even if it was inside Norman's head. He squeezed Norman's wrists harder, leaning down so his longs bangs almost tickled Norman's nose. He said, "This is me making it look like I might be doing one of two things to you. One," Ray breathed beside Norman's ear, "threatening you with physical violence again. Or, two — threatening you with physical violence again while, perhaps unbeknownst even to _myself_, sublimating romantic feelings for you, using physical dominance as a stand in for softer physical affection I don't yet realize I feel."

Norman's eyes finally dared to flick to where neither of them had been brave enough to look until then — to where Mama stood on the hill, holding one of the babies against her hip. To where Norman had already cleverly ensured Emma would be standing, too, pretending not to notice Ray and Norman. Emma would keep holding most of Mama's attention... but that in turn would make Mama more certain she should be watching Ray and Norman instead. And right now, that was what Ray wanted.

So far, so good. Now Ray just had to bank on Norman's acuity catching up.

Norman looked back into Ray's face, widening his eyes more — this time in something that looked like fear. "You want Mama to think we...?" He couldn't seem to finish the sentence.

Ray did it for him, leaning far enough down again to continue murmuring in Norman's ear. "I want Mama to wonder if _I_ might be 'putting moves' on you right now, as a result of feelings I've kept pent up, but that are now starting to come out despite themselves, thanks to our previous physical altercation."

Norman stilled for a moment, in which it seemed he didn't breathe. But when his breath came back, it came more shallow. Faster... and a little louder.

A good piece of acting, Ray reflected, allowing his smug smirk to widen. Whether Norman pretended discomfort and fear or mimicked what he believed to be passable, awkward pre-teen arousal that matched the kind Ray tried now to fake made no difference to Ray's plan whatsoever. All that mattered was that Mama began to have the inkling, the suspicion that Ray might care about Norman in ways that went beyond friendship.

Norman swallowed and whispered, "I can see why you might want to make Mama suspicious of you in that sense. It would definitely lead to confusion if she thought you struggled like that, or _I_ did once you dragged me in. But I'm not convinced she'll buy it, Ray. At all."

Ray tisked, but he didn't pull away from Norman's ear. He just shifted his hips against Norman's so Norman was forced to shift as well — away from the pressure a bit, arching his back... so it looked to Mama as if Norman reacted to something extra threatening — or perhaps suggestive — that Ray said. That was how adult things like this went, right?

But all Ray said was, "She doesn't have to completely buy it. What's important right now is to astonish Mama as much as possible. It'll still surprise her and make her hesitate if she _doesn't_ buy it. We just need to make her wonder why I would want her to falter, why I'd want to make her wonder about the reason I'd set something like this up, get her stuck on how it ties into our escape plans. Setting up this conflict between you and me might also serve as a back-up plan in general, Norman — something to rely on that might prevent you and Emma getting shipped out early."

"How?"

Ray hide his maniacal grinning this time in the soft strands of Norman's hair. "The more ideas, the more conflicting information we can give Mama in general about you, me, Emma, our relative relationships, our feelings regarding each other, and our three-way dynamic as a whole... the harder a time she'll have predicting our moves. Right now I'm setting up some extra, false factors for her to consider." His hands squeezed Norman's wrists again. "Blush, Norman," he muttered. "Hurry up and start faking a good reaction to my pinning you. You're taking too long at this rate." It wouldn't look realistic.

Norman drew in a slow, deep breath, then flushed a beautiful crimson. Like the cherries Mama put atop the pie slices for the younger children when they behaved.

Ray could feel heat radiate from Norman's cheek. "Good." His whisper stirred the pale hairs falling across Norman's ear again.

"So... it ultimately doesn't matter," Norman asked, squirming again for good measure in case Mama was still looking, "whether Mama believes you're attracted to me like that for real, or whether she just thinks you're trying to _make_ her believe it?"

Ray sat back and ran his eyes down Norman's figure, as if sizing him up for a meal. He'd read something like that in a book once, about a knight that did it to a princess he wanted to seduce, eying her all up and down. It had seemed so inhuman, near cruel from Ray's perspective to objectify somebody in that sense. Was this what the demons did, too? Sizing up people they wanted like meals while licking their lips?

Ray tried not to shiver. He kept playing his role.

"It's better if she could really believe it," he replied, releasing Norman's wrists at that. "But I'll take whatever I can get and make sure I can work with it. Keep reacting now that I've let you go." Time for Norman to do some of the grunt work.

Norman sat up, wincing when the action only caused Ray's hips to move against his own again. Ray wasn't going to be dislodged so easily, or that would make it look like he felt cowed, which was not the impression he wanted to give Mama. Mama knew it took a lot to get Ray cowed.

Norman leaned forward next, brows crunched, pretending to look angry... and Ray made sure to turn his face aside as if ashamed by his having climbed atop Norman so suddenly. Ashamed, but not ready to back down. Yes, that was the most realistic — what Ray would do if this were real.

Then Norman pretended to reprimand him, fervor bubbling in his words though he actually engaged further in discussing Ray's plan. "Mama still might not ultimately believe it," Norman said. "For one thing, we're only eleven. It's unlikely that at our age the hypothalamus would have started to unleash the gonadotropin-releasing hormone, the one that travels to the pituitary gland and then unlocks the _other_ puberty hormones."

Ray blinked rapidly, then sighed. He'd expected Norman to argue, because Norman always did, but he hadn't expected it to be over _this_.

"That potential for physical attraction," Norman went on, "those hormones aren't fully awake in us yet; they're sleeping like a caterpillar in a cocoon. So—"

"Maybe in _you _they are," Ray cut in.

Ray's voice had already deepened more than Norman's. And he'd finally had the strange type of dream he'd read about, that time Mama wasn't watching which books he dug out of the library — the type of dream that woke him up, and ended in him discovering his pajama pants and his sheets were all wet...

But now wasn't the time to think of that.

Norman twitched. Ray couldn't tell this time if the reaction was real or not. Norman said, "Fine. Even assuming Mama believed one or both of us mature enough for that, you're still the least likely one to make a move, Ray. You don't ever show your affection openly. Any way you look at it, that makes this situation appear too contrived to be believed."

Norman would have had a point... if Ray hadn't already thought about that, and accounted for exactly that line of thinking.

But Norman surprised Ray before Ray could explain how far ahead he'd planned; as Norman considered Ray quietly, he extended a hand and laid it carefully against Ray's cheek.

Ray didn't have to feign astonishment as Norman next turned his face so they were eye-to-eye again.

Norman's gaze was dark this time as he scanned Ray's eyes, his cheeks, then settled on gazing at Ray's lips... with his thumb stroking a path against Ray's jaw. "It'd be more realistic if it were Emma or I who suddenly acted on confused or pent up feelings for _you_, assuming Mama _could _believe any of us were falling victim to puberty in the first place."

Ray jerked backward and batted Norman's hand away. His heart thundered. "S-stop saying 'puberty.' It's such an awkward, stupid word. This doesn't have to be _that_ embarrassing."

Norman dropped his hand. His expression returned to one of surprise.

"And don't pretend you understand," Ray said after that — on purpose, and loudly enough that if Mama strained her ears, she'd be able to make out his words.

Let it keep looking and _sounding_ like they awkwardly confronted each other, like Ray felt irritated and patronized or embarrassed to hell now by Norman's gentle touch against his face. Let her think that again, Norman tried to smooth things between them, but Ray's sublimated emotions and his angst made him lash out and drive a wedge between them.

Chaos. All over the place.

Then Ray lowered his voice again so only Norman could hear him. "It's specifically _because _I'm usually so unemotional," he told Norman, "that she'd believe it if it started to look like I'd finally cracked enough to force my repressed feelings on you. A bottle under pressure _always _cracks eventually. Mama also knows I like to be in control; she'd expect me to be egotistical enough, bold enough, competitive enough to want you _my_ way or not at all, once I did decide to move on you. She'd predict that I would plan to catch you off guard, so I could manipulate the situation, as is my M.O."

Norman just studied him neutrally. "I see."

Ray began to grow uncomfortable with his plan after all. Why were Norman's eyes so unreadable now? He'd thought Norman would understand his plot.

It shouldn't have made Norman so skeptical. _Everyone_ — including Mama and Sister — already knew that Norman was closest to _Emma_. If there were feelings beyond friendship growing between any of them, of course they would be between Norman and Emma. If the situation had been different, if Emma and Norman hadn't discovered the truth about the demons on the other side of the gate, Ray felt certain that Norman would have confessed his feelings for Emma already, puberty-aided or not — so he'd expected Norman to see why tossing Ray's fake feelings into the mix and giving Mama reason to suspect some kind of complex love triangle was a brilliant idea.

It might make Mama reconsider tearing Norman and Emma apart too quickly.

Because Mama would. Ray chewed his lip. Mama _would_ try to separate Norman and Emma, if she continued to believe their bond was the strongest. Ray didn't know how Mama would do it yet, but the bond Norman and Emma had _was_ the strongest and most important one. Norman's closeness to and deep understanding of and faith in Emma was the reason all three of them remained able to cooperate so well; Norman was the bridge between Emma and Ray. Norman was the mediator, the balancing factor always. If Mama wanted to break up all three of them and render them powerless as a team, the fastest way would be to rip Norman away from Emma first... because then Emma might crumble, _and_ there'd be no one left to help Ray understand Emma, or plot well with her.

But... if Mama didn't _know _for sure whose feelings were strongest... If she doubted whether it was really Norman and Emma who should be torn apart first after all... if she could be made to hesitate over which part of their threesome dynamic would suffer worst if one of them were removed from the equation... then she would take longer to decide how to act.

Ray wanted to do anything he could to buy a little time before they three were hindered by her targeting one of them.

"What do you want me to do?" Norman asked.

Ray glanced away from him again. "Acting more off-guard would have been better, but you've already wrecked that by sitting up and touching my face so boldly. I don't care what you do beyond this point; it doesn't matter." A strange jolt in his chest told him at once that he lied through his teeth, but Ray forced that emotion back as far as it would go. "Just react however you actually would, if I really did this to you — really pushed you down and made you think that I might want you for my own. I'll work with whatever it is. But don't delay. And make it convincing." His eyes flicked back up under the screen of his bangs to find Mama turning away from them — but he knew she was still watching. "If you're going to punch me, though," he murmured, "and fake more escalation that way, do it where my bangs don't cover my face. I don't want Mama to think you aimed on purpose where my hair would hide the damage so that you could get away with a hit that wouldn't actually injure me. Hit me like you mean it, like Don did, and where she can see. That's the only way to fool her."

Norman remained unmoving a half-second more. Then his hands rose to clasp Ray's face.

He turned Ray forward, then leaned in. Ray had only a moment to register Norman's face nearing before Norman kissed him.

Ray froze, forgetting to act. His body felt like a wooden puppet's. His eyes flew round and open, but he couldn't focus on Norman's face with him so close. This wasn't being punched at all, his brain processed. This wasn't Norman feigning shyness or hesitance or disgust, either, like what would have been more realistic. This was...

Norman's mouth felt softer than Ray had ever imagined somebody else's mouth could be. A tremor shot through him. Were all lips like this? His certainly weren't, he thought self-consciously. His were always chapped, and right now they were parted in surprise. He made a shocked sound he almost didn't recognize as coming out of himself.

Why was Norman faking a kiss? Did Norman hate everything about having to do it, too? Or was it somehow comforting and vaguely pleasant, and sweet for Norman, like it was for Ray? The closest he'd ever been to Norman before this was just now, lying atop his chest, but this was something else entirely... and Ray discovered that he didn't hate it.

Norman sighed a sigh that sounded contented, then pulled away just far enough to focus their gazes on each other again. With his voice fond, almost coy, he asked Ray, "Was that convincing enough?"

Ray shot backward off Norman's lap and swiped a wrist across his lips as if to scrub the kiss away.

Norman laughed and tilted his head, his smile pure and painfully bright. Ray couldn't remember the last time recently he'd seen Norman smile as hard as that — unless it was directly in front of Mama in an attempt to trick her.

Norman said, "Yes, that's a perfect reaction. You'd be furious if I stole the first move from you... so keep on reacting like that. She's watching." Norman didn't even look back at where Mama still stood... but Ray knew both of them by now had a sixth sense for feeling her eyes on them.

Ray spluttered. He only had to force the startled response about halfway; the rest of his astonishment remained real. "Why would _you_ kiss _me_ first, you dolt, if it really were _that_ kind of tension? That isn't what you'd actually do!"

"Yes," said Norman, still smiling, "it is. It's just that you couldn't _predict_ I'd do it. You underestimated me."

"If you thought I liked you," Ray gritted, backing off another foot in disbelief, "then you would _kiss_ me? As if you liked me back?"

Norman raised a forefinger. "Well, it's like this..."

Emma called something loud up on the hill, and Mama's attention finally turned back fully onto her... and onto whatever Emma was doing with Phil and the rest of the children. Ray faltered, glancing between Mama and Norman.

"If you really did give me reason to think your aggression or your arguing was actually because you _liked_ me, Ray, or because you were confused about punching me versus pinning me down... and all the other conditions were the same as they are right now... then what else could I do _but _kiss you?"

Ray glared. "I don't see how that works."

"It's true that I like Emma more, if we're talking about who _I_ might want to pin down or kiss," Norman whispered. His smile dropped and for a moment his expression became wistful. Ray snorted — as if _Norman_ would be the one pinning _Emma_ down. It'd be the total opposite. "But you're also my close friend," Norman said, before Ray could start to protest, "so I don't mind doing it with you. At this age, it harms nothing between us if I kiss you; you could say we're still so innocent it doesn't really count, even. But beyond that—"

"You self-righteous prick," Ray exclaimed. Hadn't Norman been listening before? "S-speak for yourself."

_Ray _had inklings already of what intimacy was, and what 'counted,' at least when it came to himself and his own developing preferences. Not that he'd meant any of _that_ to become relevant here, but if Norman was going to make assumptions...

All Norman did was smile again — and Ray flushed. This time, for real.

Damn, he was losing his sense over this. There was no need to let Norman know that the lie he'd aimed to create to make Mama stumble was steeped in just a bit of truth — that Ray might have been somewhat invested in Norman like that after all. That Ray might have wondered for a while now what it might be like to pin Norman down, or for them to try a kiss. Not that he'd ever intended to do it… unless it had some benefit to their plan. He hadn't had time to bother exploring it until now.

Not that he'd ever get to explore it again... because he didn't plan to live past twelve.

"Regardless of your plan to confuse Mama about us," Norman went on, ignoring Ray's subsequent snarl of irritation, "I'd still kiss you easily if I suspected you liked me."

"We don't need to go there," Ray said, "this is all just fake and hypothetical—"

"I really would, because we're friends. So you can't get angry that I kissed you first, here. I'd never hesitate to do it... because I know there's still a chance our main escape plans will go wrong, and all of us might die. Ray... knowing there's still a possibility our escape plans will fail, did you really think I'd let you go without it, if you hypothetically actually wanted some kind of a goodbye kiss?" When Ray tensed at the word 'goodbye,' Norman's eyes narrowed... but he kept on talking. "Emma wouldn't leave you hanging over something like this, either, if it came to it and you wanted to kiss _her_."

Ray didn't say anything. He just made fists of both his hands, while his gaze flicked from Norman's gleaming eyes, to his lips, to the collar of his sweater and back again. Ray felt edgy and nervous and like someone had stuffed cotton into his head. Why did Norman always have to catch Ray so off-guard like this? _Ray _was supposed to be the most clever of the two of them, the person who had control.

"So..." Norman closed the distance between them again by leaning forward. He closed a hand over one of Ray's fists. "You shouldn't be surprised I did what I did. Did it satisfy your plan and lay the brickwork for Mama's astonishment and confusion? Or now is there more that we have to do?"

Ray scowled and found no words came to him.

"Right now, to Mama," Norman said, "it should look like _my _feelings are conflicted somehow, too — not just yours... because I responded positively to your actions when supposedly I'm head over heels for Emma. My response will give Mama even _more_ to consider or ponder now as she determines how best to tear apart our threesome. How best to crush our psyches or deliver a hit to our emotions so we're unable to muster energy to defy her. Right? I've understood you, haven't I?"

Ray gritted his teeth. His fist under Norman's hand trembled. But all he did was glower off to one side and mutter, "Yes. Good job." As he often did, Norman had one-upped Ray and found a way to make his plan even better. He'd added a layer of complexity that Ray alone hadn't been able to account for.

Ray had only been planning to throw himself under the bus, but now Norman was joining him in pretending to like Ray as well as liking Emma.

"So you're satisfied, then?" Norman asked again.

"Yes." But god no, he wasn't. He felt annoyed, but he wasn't sure why.

But there were new things to attend to, now. Now Ray needed to figure out how to break this immediate situation off between them realistically. And then how to continue it later, mix it in to his other plans. Should Ray storm away for now, pass Mama on the way to the House, and make it look like he sequestered himself in his room to deal with his emotions? To make it look like Norman had confused him or upset him further?

But Norman closed a hand against his jaw again, before Ray could act. "You shouldn't be satisfied," Norman said. He turned Ray again to face him... and too late, Ray realized that Norman wasn't finished with _any_ of this. Norman's expression looked stormy. "You're too quick to accept that any kiss we'd share would be a _goodbye_ one — hypothetical, faked, or not."

Ray flinched.

Norman pressed their mouths together again.

It didn't last long. But it felt more raw, somehow, than the first time. Ray could feel Norman's fingers tremble against his jaw, hear the pound of his own heartbeat assailing his ears. There was something more insistent about this kiss, at the same time it felt somehow even more sweet. It was like Ray could feel Norman's care, concern, and certainty radiating through the warm touch of his lips, through the chaste but no less ardent exhale that escaped Norman when he finally pulled away.

Still shocked, Ray blinked at Norman and waited for answers, feeling a mix of contented by the kiss and furious to have been startled again.

"No goodbyes allowed," Norman exclaimed, his voice dropping to become dark. "I believe in Emma. You should, too. We're all escaping together — and that means you, also." Norman's blue eyes pierced straight into him, enough so that Ray finally shivered and raised fingers to touch his lips.

He reflected, while Norman drew back enough to smooth his sweater in the pause.

Ray didn't think Norman knew about his plans to die. But it wouldn't have surprised him if Norman had some kind of sixth sense about it... and wondered, or assumed, or made leaps of logic. They knew each other so well that their guesses about each other weren't often wrong. Norman especially possessed an uncanny ability to read Ray and outthink him.

Norman's second kiss... was that his way of telling Ray he'd come after Ray as many times as necessary, to ensure Ray would escape with them? To make sure it wasn't 'goodbye?'

If so, then from now on, Ray would have to take extra pains to make sure he could hide his intention to die.

His resolve coalesced. His mood clouded. He'd _have_ to outwit Norman this time, no matter what sacrifices it took. Ray wanted Norman to leave this place with his life — and sacrificing his own was the only way to ensure that.

Ray forced a laugh. It came hollow. "Fine. We'll all escape together, like you say." He watched Norman rise and pat grass off his clothes. Then he added, curling his expression into another smirk, "You're more daring with me than I thought you'd be in order to help ensure it, though. What will Emma think?"

All Norman did was shake his head and offer Ray a hand up off the ground. He didn't plan to take the bait or talk about kissing any more.

Ray tisked, but then he relented. He accepted Norman's hand up.

They stood beside each other and stared up the hill.

Emma — behind Mama's back — turned toward them, stuck a tongue out from between the teeth of her teasing grin, and flashed them both the thumbs up sign. Ray assumed that meant she'd seen them kiss. And that she didn't seem to have a problem with it.

Leave it to Emma to accept absolutely whatever they chose to do and trust it as part of the plan.

"All right," Ray murmured, trying not to flush again. "Now's my chance to pretend this affected me with a lot of pre-teen angst, and run into my room to do... whatever an older kid would do with something intense like this. I think that'd be the best option." He straightened his shirt and prepared to go.

The truth was, he could play mature all he wanted... but Norman was right. They were still too young to do much of anything other than minimally explore their own bodies and developing desires, merely playing pretend at being adult. And it was senseless to want anything more than that — at least for Ray, who would never live past twelve years old to find out what a real kiss was _meant _to be like, or what intense emotions or more fiery desires a good one was meant to arouse.

But as he moved to make for the House, Norman halted him with a hand.

"_I'd_ better go, actually," Norman said. One of his hands rose to his face... but it failed to cover the crimson tint that had again risen to his cheeks. "I think that'd be more realistic after the scenario we just played out."

Ray blinked and stepped backward. "Why?"

"Because kissing you made me realize how triply invested I am now in getting you — ah, in getting _all_ of us — out of here alive, before your birthday... and now I'm nervous again about succeeding. I need time alone to process and plan." Norman began to stride away. "_I'll_ be the one to play the most conflicted first. Come talk to Emma and me after dinner... okay?"

Ray sighed to cover the thud of his heart, shoved his hands in his pockets, and called, "Don't strain yourself, Norman. I've— I've got it handled, I said." How many times did he need to assert it?

Norman stopped and glanced back. Then he smiled. "If that's so, then it won't be a burden or a problem, or a hindrance... if I insist on sticking with you and helping. Right?"

Ray swallowed the lump in his throat. "You can be so annoying, did you know?"

"Yep. But I'll make sure you're stuck with me anyway. Be careful, okay, Ray?"

As Norman walked away, Ray kicked the grass, then bit back the curse he wanted to unleash beneath his breath. At this rate, Norman was as formidable as Mama and Sister. As unrelenting and irrefutable as a blazing sun or star in his own right. It was going to take every scrap of Ray's cleverness to outwit him.

Ray touched his lips again, while Norman passed Emma and Mama at the top of the hill and made a show of heading for the House, shoulders hunched, a storm on his brow. Part of Ray could not accept that Norman had stolen _two _kisses from him now... but if they were all Ray would ever get, then he would treasure them anyway.

In the _next _life, if Ray was so lucky, he could live beyond twelve and do whatever he wanted. Kiss Norman first. Pin him down again.

He turned as he heard footsteps behind him. They were the heavy footfalls he knew to be Sister's, accompanied by the pattering of small feet that belonged to a few of the other young kids. Ray put a mask on over his emotions and turned. "Hi, Sister. How did tag go?" he asked pleasantly.

All Sister did was grin at him. "One of the children _fell_ — hard," she sing-songed, "and another of them _kissed _it better. Isn't that the sweetest thing?"

Ray stood tall in the darkness of the shadow she cast over him and kept smiling. So she'd seen him and Norman kiss, too? Fine. "Adorable," he conceded, his false laughter ringing in tandem with Sister's. He felt weary again... but this was for his friends.

He walked back up toward the House beside Sister. Mama looked askance at him when he arrived at her side. "A little rambunctious today, aren't you, Ray?"

"Did you see?" Ray asked flatly, pretending to be mortified and conflicted.

"Norman is high-quality merchandise," Mama murmured casually. "Don't get too rough with him... do you understand?" Her stiffness said she didn't like having to repeat the order she'd already given when Ray had come to her earlier for first aid claiming he and Norman had punched each other.

Ray faked embarrassment and fury over her directness; he grit his teeth and tisked, turning his back on her. "_I _know that. But he doesn't. Don't worry... if I can just get him under control a little, I can distract him from escape plans and from trying to kill you with this sort of thing."

"By trying to seduce him? Tame him that way?"

"Yes."

"Is that something Norman would be swayed by, Ray?"

"Hah! I'm going to make sure it is." Or such was the way Ray had to frame this to Mama — to be the most realistic.

Mama assessed him now, her eyes dark but mostly unreadable. It was the face she made whenever she grew suspicious of Ray's intentions. She said, "How mature of you, to resort to thinking like that for my sake."

"It's for _my_ sake, too," Ray told her.

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Because I want you to keep trusting me. If I say I'll fake-seduce Norman to make him submit, then I will. You can at least _try_ to believe it."

"My, my, if that's really what you're going to do — then I'd better not interfere." That was veiled sarcasm, Ray knew. Mama didn't believe Ray's front of confidence or his assertions in the slightest. She believed Ray had become truly tangled up in emotions of attraction that revolved around Norman and was lying about the seduction plan now to cover his own behind — exactly what Ray wanted her to think.

Excellent.

Ray forced a blush and rubbed a hand through his hair. "Tch. I'm going inside," he said.

"Oh?" asked Mama keenly. "Where Norman just went?"

"I'm not going to do anything else to him yet, don't worry. Your merchandise will be fine."

Mama's eyebrows cinched closer together, and her lips pursed, but she said nothing.

"Mama," Emma called out brightly. "Sister!" Sister had idled behind Ray as well, though not close enough to hear Ray and Mama's exchange. Emma now caught Sister exchanging a glance with Mama, however. But when Emma called, both women turned to her. "Can you help me re-tie everybody's shoes so we can all race down the hill?"

Ray took the moment to slip off and head back inside the mostly-empty House.

The heavy wooden door shut after him. The bubbling laughter and whooping of the children outside cut off as a result. Dust motes danced in the sunlight filtering in through the paned windows... and all Ray heard now was the ticking of the clock. That and his own shaking sigh of relief.

He'd really meant to stay outside. He'd done enough for one day, accomplished what he'd needed to. But as usual, speaking with Mama shifted and changed all of his plans. Now he had to figure out what he would do while back indoors.

Back indoors... where Norman was.

No. Senseless to keep thinking about Norman — especially when he'd told Mama he'd tangled with Norman enough for one day. So why was he trying now to parse out what _Norman_ would do next? Why were Ray's feet carrying him down the hall, toward the stairs and the bedroom?

His lips felt even drier now, and he recalled Norman's pressed on them. He swallowed and shook his head, to try to focus again. He couldn't fall into his own trap, get too hung up on any of this. This was a trap for _Mama_, not him.

But maybe it'd been naive of him not to consider a bit more the effect his plan would have on Norman, what Norman would do afterward. Norman had seemed a little off, volunteering to be the person to flee into the House, feigning struggle the most. Did he actually struggle for real? And if so, wouldn't that make him a liability? Ray should...

He stopped, finding himself before the bedroom door. His hand turned the knob.

Ray should at least check in, to make sure there was nothing he had overlooked.

He heard nothing at first when he entered the room. Then he walked forward, and under the steady tread of his footsteps, he heard a trembling intake of breath.

Norman sat on the edge of his bed, his flush still high, his face in his hands. Ray knew better than to expect Norman hadn't yet realized he'd entered; Norman knew Ray's footsteps as well as Ray knew Norman's. So Ray just remained silent and waited — hands quaking in his pockets where they were now crammed — for Norman to be ready to acknowledge him.

"Ray," Norman said after a hanging second. "I'm sorry. I understood your plan out there." He didn't yet raise his face from his hands. "I think it's just that... what we did is finally hitting me, a little late."

Ray tensed. "You mean the fact that we actually kissed?"

"Y-yes, not that we hatched another plan. The logic of the plan makes sense."

"But you hated it after all, because of how we ended up executing it?" A beat passed. "You didn't really want to fake a kiss. Why are _you _apologizing, idiot? Damn it, if I'm the one that started it..." He hadn't meant to make Norman feel upset for real, or... or violated. Forced into taking action he didn't want to, because Ray had sprung it on him.

Norman at last dropped his hands from his face. Ray could barely believe it when he recognized the glimmer of a few tears clinging to Norman's eyelashes. Ray took one hand from his pocket, but then let it drop instead of reaching out. Instead he stood there, feeling stricken dumb.

This hadn't been in his calculations. He'd not meant to make Norman break down somehow.

Norman laughed then, seeing his expression. "It's not that I didn't like kissing you. It's... rather that I _did_." Norman's embarrassed tone made it sound like he'd _expected_ to feel neutral at best.

Ray squinted a moment. Norman had dropped his eyes a brief moment, too. "You're lying," Ray exclaimed, quiet.

Norman sniffed and wiped his eyes, this time careful to hold Ray's gaze. "No. I'm not. The kiss was good." His voice didn't waver any more, but still Ray didn't quite trust it.

"Then why are you crying, stupid?" Ray's stomach flipped. If liking it wasn't a lie... then was Norman actually upset because he sensed _Ray _had lied about something?

Shit, it kept coming back to Ray worrying that Norman saw right through his suicide plans. Ray should have been focusing on Mama as his main opponent — not always on having to outwit Norman's instinct so he could die in his blaze of revenge. It _wasn't_... it wasn't _possible_, was it, that this soon, Norman might have the inkling of suspicion that Ray was still hiding something when it came to his intention to escape with them? Norman couldn't possibly tell, just from a staged scenario that involved a fake kiss...?

The main door of the House creaked open. A step in the foyer echoed all the way into the bedroom; Ray's keen hearing picked it up.

A light, cautious step. A sneaky one.

Mama's.

Norman heard it too; the color washed from his face.

Ray uttered, "Shit."

Fleet of foot, he rushed to close the door of the bedroom, shutting them both inside it. If Mama caught him wandering the halls instead, it would only look suspicious.

If Mama was coming into the House to check on Ray and where he'd gone, then Ray's only choice right now was to continue the charade he'd started outside by meeting Mama's every expectation — the expectations he'd set for her. He needed to be found in exactly the type of situation that he'd made Mama suspect, that would logically follow his tailing a distressed Norman into the house after their sharing a pair of kisses if his feelings were real. He needed to enact what would actually happen if he were repressed and conflicted.

Ray shoved Norman backward onto the bed — a repeat of the situation he'd created outside on the grass. Norman clutched the front of Ray's shirt, crumpling it — a reaction born seemingly out of pure shock.

Mama's footsteps treaded through the foyer.

Ray cut to chase and whispered, "Do you know how to masturbate yet?"

"_What?"_ Norman exclaimed. Ray didn't repeat himself. Norman inhaled and said, "I-I... _yes. _But—"

"I don't care if it's just in theory or from personal experience messing around with yourself that you know," Ray spoke quickly, "because I'm not saying either one of us actually has to do it right now. But pretend. We need to pretend it realistically — that we'd be capable of that sort of thing — right now."

Norman still appeared too pale. His chest rose and fell quickly, but he nodded. "We need to get caught doing something like that together."

"Yes," Ray finished explaining, his voice the barest husk beside Norman's ear, "because for one thing, we're already here, so we might as well make the most of the opportunity, and for another it's only natural that two boys would get into something like that if they were confused or couldn't contain their hormones after kissing like we did out there."

"Or that's what anybody _ought_ to expect," Norman murmured, continuing Ray's thought process. "So Mama still might_ not_; she might still be assuming you and I are faking. That means if you really do want to convince her, to fool her all the way, we have to— have to _go _all the way."

"Yes, in a sense," Ray said, hurrying to pin Norman's hands above him again, this time to the pillows. "We have to make it look like even despite our caution, we couldn't resist. Like we're growing too careless. Hormones and attractions make people careless; that's why we have to. That's what's real." He shifted his knees and got tangled between Norman's legs in his frustration to hurry to make their position look more compromising. He tisked... and heard Mama's feet enter their hallway, now. "Stop wriggling. If you're on the bottom, you're supposed to just lie there and submit, aren't you? Damn it, Norman—"

"I thought people were supposed to move a lot when they did this sort of thing! I—" The footsteps had stopped, which meant Mama was probably standing in the middle of the hall, listening to see which room they might be in.

Norman shut his eyes and cried out without any warning. "A-_ah! _Ahh—"

Before Ray could think of what he was doing or why, he clapped a hand over Norman's mouth.

Th-that sound... that sudden flush, doing something like _that, _crying out in surprise and in... even in _faked_ pleasure, Norman looked suddenly so— "Shut up," Ray hissed, at the same time he realized that his honest reactions would serve them just fine. Of _course_ if Ray were accosting Norman and trying to keep it a secret from Mama for real, he'd try to stifle Norman's noise.

And of course Norman would _make _noise, to let Mama know where they were — a strange noise Mama wouldn't think was deliberate. It was brilliant… but Ray still couldn't believe Norman had been brave enough to do it.

Behind the hand Ray had slapped over his mouth, Norman's lips moved. And belatedly... Ray realized Norman was fighting a grin, trying not to turn it into a laugh. Ray, mortified, could not believe Norman could find anything funny about this situation with Mama's footsteps now moving to settle right outside the correct door.

What if Mama came in or interrupted them? How was Ray _supposed_ to even fake being caught in the middle of adult passion? He didn't know how _any _of this worked; he had hoped he could rely on Norman's usual calm to help carry the fabrication through to the en—

Norman snickered. Ray stifled him harder. "Shut up," he hissed again. "This isn't something to laugh at!"

Norman gripped Ray's wrist and pulled his hand away, shaking in silent laughter, shaking his head, and then managing under his breath, "I can't help it. We have no idea what we're actually doing, and I just thought..." A break for silent laughter again.

Ray made sure, in the interim, to shift so that he creaked the bed loud enough for Mama to hear it — as if they were moving all around like Norman said.

"I just thought," Norman finally finished, "that the sound I made, if people actually do things like that... it sounded like you were trying to startle me with a spider on my pillow or something. Sex is weird. I don't think I could ever take it seriously."

Ray leaned closer. He couldn't believe this; he'd always secretly thought Norman the most mature, although _he _tried to pretend to be the most adult of all of them. "Try _harder,_ then; grow up, you damn—"

Norman clapped his hand to the back of Ray's neck and hauled him down for another kiss.

This time it was a sloppier affair. It struck Ray as probably rather juvenile in execution, if the way their teeth knocked was anything to say about it. Their teeth weren't supposed to knock, he assumed, because that hurt and felt weird. But this kiss was so sudden, posed with so much fervor... so hot and moist with Norman's lips slightly parted this time so Ray could feel the mingling of their breath… that Ray moaned his surprise aloud — _loudly_ — before he could help himself. The sound sent a pleasantly vibrating sensation through his mouth, too.

Norman let him go after that, stating seriously, "That was better. A lot more realistic, I imagine." He lowered his voice even more just in case, and said, "I know you better than you think; I always know when you're lying or faking, so..."

Ray shuddered, felt hot and dizzy, and managed to utter through his haze, "Y-you—"

"So I'll try to make it so it's less of a lie, by ensuring you don't hate it. I'll do what it seems that you like. But in case I'm wrong, what… what _do_ you think you would like, if this were for real, or if we were older, or...?"

Ray stammered. "Wh-wh...? I-I..."

"Just being on top of me like this? The kiss?"

"The kiss was—"

"Then again, Ray. Let's do it again — if you don't want her to come in. If she does, I don't think either of us can convincingly fake what isn't happening between us in here. It's got to at least _sound_ so believably intimate that she thinks she can confirm what we're doing _without_ coming in, because even to her coming in would feel awkward and not worth the trouble. Got it?" Norman spoke while diligently undoing all the buttons of Ray's collar, starting from the top.

"If... if that's the case," Ray muttered, "then why are you making it look like my clothes got pulled off?"

"Just in case," Norman breathed beside his neck.

"'Convincingly fake what isn't happening between us in here?'" Ray repeated next, voice tight.

The way Norman moved underneath him somehow made him feel so weak his arms began shaking, threatening not to hold him up above Norman's body. _Something_ was certainly happening, here.

Norman paused for a beat. Then he smiled — guiltily. "Sorry. I wanted to be delicate and not assume anything actually _was _happening. But it _might_ be for you, huh? A little taste of the truth to go with the lies you made up?"

Ray's hand shot to grip Norman's chin to force Norman to look him in the eye. "Don't you dare pin all this on _me_." Norman's coy tone agitated him. And Ray wasn't sure where his own domineering instinct in this suddenly appeared from... but it didn't feel bad to start relying on it. Norman looked flushed and fidgety now in all the same ways Ray felt, and there was no way Ray was going to allow Norman to make _Ray _feel like the most awkward one, or the person who was wrong to have to acted under the circumstances.

Norman laughed again, under his breath. His face looked very serious where he still focused on Ray's buttons. "So _I'm_ obvious, too... is that it? You'll have to forgive me for suddenly feeling genuinely curious while pinned underneath you like this. This is all very new for me... At the least, I do agree that some truth makes a lie feel more real. You weren't wrong to rely on it. Let's make this good; I think I know what _I'd_ like, too."

Encouragement, at a time like this? Or was Norman just patronizing him?

"Fine." Ray knocked Norman's hands away from his shirt with one of his own. He cut further to the chase when an uneasy period of silence continued outside the bedroom door. "Then do I have permission to fake sex with you," he whispered, "if we're both actually fighting curiosity and real feelings about it... or not? Hurry up and give your consent — because I'm not going any farther without you stating explicitly what you're okay with."

Norman still and blinked up at him in surprise. "Ray..."

Ray didn't know why Norman felt surprised. Ray would never do this without Norman's permission or support of the plan. He wondered if he sounded as slightly crazed as now he was feeling. But he didn't want to go too far, or make anything awkward between them for real.

"If you're not comfortable, or this is weird, say so — while I still have at least half a moment to come up with a plan B to deal with Mama." The floorboards creaked outside the door. She was definitely still there. Thank god the wood of the door was as old and thick and muffling as it was.

Norman gripped Ray's shoulders. "Do it," he said. The permission rode out on a determined nod. "I'll help the best I can and take it seriously, I promise."

At least Ray knew Norman kept his promises. He examined the boy underneath him, rumpled clothing, ruffled hair.

So here they went, two very uneducated-in-this-area, high-quality-food-merchandise _children_ attempting to pretend to ruin each other's bodies in the throes of some kind of hormone-driven affliction, some kind of vague and unknowable attraction they weren't old enough to have felt yet or even know about. Ray would make it work. If he had Norman's help, they could do anything.

He didn't wait to begin. He seized Norman by the hair, tilted Norman's head back, and moved for Norman's neck with his lips.

Norman flinched. "What are you—? What, kissing me _there?_ A-ah!"

Ray bit down on the soft skin right over the numbered tattoo that marked Norman for consumption, all his frustration with the situation bubbling to the surface. Then he did it again, in a slightly different spot, this time making sure to take a little more care. He _had _been warned about damaging the merchandise, hadn't he?

And he didn't _actually _want to hurt Norman. He had to find the right level of attack, in this odd battle that adults had when they coupled in bedrooms like this... and he should keep his emotions out of it. He didn't know if the neck was the right place to focus, but it seemed like a good alternative if he didn't want to keep abusing Norman's lips; it was high up enough that if Mama _did _walk in and Ray pulled back slightly in fake surprise, their positions would still suggest they'd been meshing lips, because their heads still would be close to each other's. And as for being a little rough... There was a line Ray had sensed in the way authors wrote about lovemaking in books, using words like 'ravaged' and 'hunger,' a line that it sounded often got walked between pain and pleasure when two people—

"That hurts." Norman panted, loudly enough for Mama to hear through the door. "But it feels a little good, too, somehow."

Norman wasn't lying; not that Ray could tell from his voice at least.

Good.

But then Ray hesitated. _Was _it good? If he kept biting Norman... that was disgusting, wasn't it? Norman wasn't a meal on a plate; Ray didn't need to make it seem like he mimicked the demons planning to eat _them_ in his treatment of this perfect boy underneath him. He didn't want—

"Do it again," Norman demanded.

The command pulled Ray back from worry and more over-analysis. If _that_ didn't sound like exploration, like learning things they shouldn't have been learning… if Norman's order didn't sound convincing to Mama, then Ray seriously didn't know what did or what would.

But _still _Norman's words made him hesitate. Made him continue to overthink what he was doing, what he should do next. What else did people do in bed besides 'ravage' each other, anyway? His head felt cottony again, his body too warm. He felt anxious and distracted. Norman seemed to be putting off more heat than usual now, too, or maybe it was the blankets under them.

What was the most convincing? What wouldn't make either of them uncomfortable? What was Ray supposed to—?

Norman flipped them both over.

Ray found himself sinking into the mattress on his back, blinking up at the ceiling as the switch Norman manipulated thunked the headboard into the wall behind them.

Ray hadn't known Norman could be that fast even with someone pinning him. He had enough sense to protest a second later — because that would have been realistic considering the situation. "Hey," he said, "who says _you_ get to take command?"

Norman glanced nervously at the door, still aware of Mama too, but when he spoke — pinning Ray's arms hard beside his body so that Ray wouldn't move — his voice sounded low and honeyed, like he knew exactly what image he wanted to create. "I'm going to do whatever I want with you, and you're going to obey me. I'll take you; I can't resist any more — so behave, and I'll make it feel good... I promise."

It might have sounded stilted, but Ray wasn't concentrating hard enough any more to analyze the tone Norman tried to employ. He got caught instead on the words themselves. On how confident and commanding they sounded.

Where the hell had Norman learned talk like _that?_ Where the hell—

"Kiss me again, my kitten."

The moment the purr of encouragement left Norman's mouth, both of them stilled and looked at each other. Ray stared at Norman a long moment, and Norman stared back, unblinking. Then they reacted at the same time.

Norman slapped a hand across his own mouth to stifle the same burst of laughter that Ray felt rising from his own chest — on the wave of his disbelief at what Norman had said.

This could not be any more awkward or... or more hilarious if they'd tried — not even if they _hadn't _been trying to fool Mama, Ray decided. Norman's eyes watered as he fought his mirth.

But Ray didn't even try to muffle his laughter. His short, barked guffaw would be understandable if he didn't hide it. He said aloud afterward, "You sounded all right at first, but now you suck. Do you think adults really talk like that to each other when they're doing things like this? I think you're just ruining it."

"I don't know," said Norman, playing along as well — in the role of making new discoveries, experimenting. But he considered Ray this time, while Ray took a turn examining the door to see if Mama's shadow still flickered under it. "Maybe I went a bit too far. But you _are_ a little like a cat, don't you think? Broody, and usually unwilling to be held close, only accepting attention if _you_—"

"_What? _No — that's a load of crock. Funny you say it while I'm _letting _you lie on top of me!"

Norman leaned in again at that, very close, so close that Ray almost melted at the heat of his body and breath. "Oh? Well... do you want to _let _me do anything else beyond that?"

A beat passed in which Ray noticed for the first time in his pathetic, captive life how lovely Norman's eyelashes were when they fluttered against his flushed cheeks. "_Shit_," Ray rasped next, examining Norman's smirk.

And then finally — _finally — _he moved first, to steal them both another kiss.

He didn't need to think about whether he really wanted one, or how he would get it this time. It came naturally, perhaps because he wasn't worried so much about execution or expectation or what Norman would think. He just... he just _wanted _to do it. And by now he thought he knew better what it was supposed to feel like, how he could get the right affect.

It was all about getting your heart to thunder like one of the younger kids banging around pots and pans in the kitchen. All about forgetting where you were, to get lost in the comfort of body heat and closeness. And about scent, the clean and soapy smell that clung to Norman's hair and around the collar of his shirt, about getting to breathe that in.

"Mmn—" Norman's arms collapsed, and he fell atop Ray completely so their bodies lied flush together. Ray buried fingers in Norman's hair without thinking, following rules that seemed to flip on inside him and steer him by instinct, by something primal. Norman's breathing picked up after a hitch. Ray didn't know how real kissing was supposed to go in the end, the kind that went on and on, the kind that got deeper and more intense. He didn't know all the right ways to move, but... but kissing at least like they'd already done, just pressing lips together like this... holding it for a time, pulling away and then diving back in again... It felt so good with Norman so close. They couldn't be too far off, right?

Norman broke for breath and Ray reached to drag him back in. Then Norman dug fingertips into Ray's shoulders when they shifted against each other. _"Oh—"_

"That's it," Ray muttered, clutching Norman close, feeling a thrill shoot through him at Norman's surprise... because he'd sensed a bit of enjoyment in it. That _had _to mean he was on the right track. "Now I'm winning, Norman. Just keep on giving me that reaction — got it?"

Norman tisked. "I wasn't aware this was a competi—" Norman shut up when Ray kissed him again.

This time, Ray tried moving his lips a little. Tried sliding them along Norman's to feel how soft they were. He hummed a bit as well, to see if he could get that pleasant vibration again.

What he gained in reply was Norman's full-bodied tremble and very audible whimper.

Ray grinned.

God, there must be a truly monstrous streak buried in him. It must come from being Mama's direct child. Evil blood had been passed down to him; it was all Ray could do to fight it and make sure he used it for _good_. Ray knew they were only playing pretend, but when Norman made helpless little noises and motions like this, ones that told Ray how much Ray had control over Norman's body, over every aspect of him... Ray thought he liked it too much. Thought it wouldn't be so bad if he made Norman react like that again and again. What was the word people used? Devious? He was being devious and tricky to get what he wanted. Yes, definitely Ray possessed tainted blood and was turning it now against Norman. Against him... to help save him.

But if Ray was a bad person for executing his rescue using tactics like this, Norman was bad in his own way, too — because Ray could tell that Norman actually _did _enjoy being startled, being taken by surprise and growing more curious about their touches. Norman was egging Ray on as much as Ray was trying to instigate him.

Norman wriggled against him again as if to prove it. Ray gave up clutching him around the neck and moved his hands to Norman's waist to keep him still. Then he tisked when Norman just seemed to want to keep moving, rubbing against him in some kind of rhythmic press.

"Don't stop me," Norman rasped beside his ear, when they halted kissing so Norman could protest Ray's holding him back. "That part is good. I-I'm starting to feel..."

"Asshole," Ray said, very loudly, "you'll get an erection and ejaculate if you keep doing that. You want to go that far on our first try?"

Norman froze, as if Ray's words were a winter wind. But little did Norman know, and whatever Norman was feeling in response right now... Norman had finally given Ray the opportunity they'd needed to drive the idea of what they were doing home in Mama's mind.

Ray finally heard footsteps again, creeping away down the hall. Back they way they'd come. Retreating.

Success.

Mama — convinced beyond a doubt now of what they must be up to — was leaving. She didn't need to hear any more. She probably didn't _want _to.

They'd accomplished their goal. The important thing now, Ray understood, was to deal with whatever Mama did _after_ this.

There was a huge risk, depending on how she treated the situation. Ray would need to talk to her again, to play coy and embarrassed and make like he tried to hide his feelings for Norman all the more, so he could gauge Mama's ideas about—

"Ejaculation?" Norman said.

Ray sat up, using one arm to push Norman off him. "Yes. But it doesn't matter now. She's gone."

"I know. And I… know about erections," Norman said, slowly moving so that his legs hung off the bed.

Ray positioned himself the same way next to him... then sighed the relief that he'd been holding in.

Then Ray meticulously began re-doing his shirt buttons.

Norman still had a hand glued to his chin in the posture of self-reflection. "Erections are troublesome, but just a part of life for boys. The ejaculation part, though, is when we're old enough that the semen comes out, yes?"

Ray jolted away. Could Norman _make _it any more uncomfortable to address? If he already understood it, then why keep _talking _about it so directly? At this point, it served no advantage. And Ray had worried _he _was bad! "Don't you know anything?" Ray responded, his voice register shooting up so high it cracked — ironic considering what he next asked. "Haven't your balls even dropped yet, and do you know what they're for, or don't you? Sheesh..."

"Of course I do. They're to impregnate a woman." Norman paused. "Like Emma."

"You had _better _not got impregnating Emma!" Ray leapt to a standing position and had to work very hard to make sure he didn't shout it.

Norman tilted his head and smiled. "Of course not. I just meant... I just overlooked that something like ejaculating could still happen between two boys, when neither of them can bear children. I guess I thought the body would be more logical about the process and I wouldn't have to worry about it, if it was with you."

How adorably naive.

Ray ran both hands down his face like he could drag the skin clean off. He inhaled a deep breath and said, "This conversation is ending." Norman was still too immature to have put a few puzzle pieces together, and Ray did not intend to enlighten him. "We don't have to discuss this."

"Agreed. The kissing for now was enough." Norman still smiled at him, his hands folded serenely on his lap. "I didn't realize it could come with so many nice sensations."

"Please shut up." But really, despite his gruff tone, Ray wasn't angry that Norman seemed to have enjoyed it.

This was an experience he'd never thought he'd get to have before January 15th. He was luckier than lucky.

Norman always managed to make things possible Ray had never believed could happen. But there were some things not even Norman or Emma or all three of them could change. So really, Ray could not afford to get any further distracted.

So then... what, he remarked wryly to himself, was with the persistent hint of stirring beginning inside his pants, thanks to all that rolling around atop the bed and melding of lips?

He tisked again and rubbed his head. This growing up stuff was too much. He snorted and crammed his hands in his pockets next. A load of distracting and threatening crap, if Ray had anything to say about it. Yeah, it maybe felt pretty good, and probably could feel even better if he tried, but the most important thing always would be keeping Norman and Emma alive, so that they wouldn't get eaten. Never mind sex.

That, Ray thought — achieving Norman and Emma's extended lives at the cost of his own_ — _would be a truer act of love than any 'lovemaking' any of them ever did.

Ray turned on his heel to leave the room. Now to see how next to deal with Mama.

"Ray," Norman's soft voice stopped him. Ray tapped his foot impatiently without turning around, but didn't take another step to leave until it seemed Norman finished. "We can talk more about this once we escape, right?"

"Right," Ray replied, trying to make sure Norman didn't see or hear his sigh.

"Okay. Ray?"

"For the love of Headquarters," Ray snapped sarcastically. "What?" This time he turned around and found Norman standing mere inches away from him. When had Norman gotten up?

Norman's fingers touched his cheek, once. Gently. "It felt... hot. Like I was burning up together with you like that," Norman said. "A little like catching on fire."

_Fire_.

Not a single breath left Ray's lips. He didn't even so much as blink.

"I think a fire like that is better than anything else that could come close on this earth," Norman said, "don't you?"

Ray's mind faltered. Shit, shit, shit. Norman knew — even though he couldn't _possibly _know, because the lighter fuel was _hidden, _damn it — that Ray planned to burn this place down. Norman knew, or acted like he did... and didn't want Ray to do it.

Norman wanted Ray to _know _he knew and didn't approve of it.

Ray made his face an unfeeling mask and fought back. "We did burn pretty brightly together, but that's because you're the brightest star, Norman." He touched the spot on Norman's chest above his heart and cleared his throat to cover his discomfort with such... such sap, and such tender words. "Stay that way, and don't ever let the light go out. That's what all this is for, I've been saying."

Norman backed off and looked — despite Ray's order — like some kind of flame went out in him. But he kept that smile plastered on and nodded. "Mm. Sure. I'll take care of myself, and that way, I'll continue to look out for all three of us."

Ray turned away again. "Fine."

"Ray?"

Ray shut his eyes, opened them again, and looked up toward the ceiling even though he knew his patience wasn't up there.

Norman said, "Whichever of us gets cornered by Mama first, now, after all that... that person is in for trouble."

"Not if it's me," Ray said at once, to shut down any ideas Norman might have about meddling. Ray was Mama's informant and a double agent; he'd be the one to handle this.

Norman said, "She's going to find whatever way she can to—"

"I have a good idea already about what she's going to do," Ray answered. "And I'll handle it so we don't get punished for this; I'll make it so even if she confronts me directly about it, she'll choose to keep it quiet and just hold it over my head to threaten me instead, keep me under her control. I'll make her do just as we planned — make her keep the information close to her chest while debating whether she can use it to tear us apart later, as my birthday gets closer. Talk to Emma," Ray added before Norman could protest, "and I'll meet you both later to find Don and Gilda and hear what happened this morning between you all and Sister."

_That _was enough to get Norman focused again. "Yes."

"And Norman?"

"What?"

"I wasn't lying about what would happen if you kept rubbing on me like that. You're going to have to do something about it now," Ray pointed in the direction of Norman's hips without looking himself, "before you leave this room again."

"Ah." Norman's voice cracked. "So it _is_ what I thought. What you said for Mama to hear. I... Ah."

Ray walked to the door and put his hand on the knob, noting his touch left slightly sweaty fingerprints. "Uh huh."

Good luck to Norman figuring it all out. If things had been different... if they'd had all the time in the world... maybe Ray would have offered to teach him. At least give him the book from the library or something. But now Norman would just have to... experiment.

"You're welcome — for the material of my kisses to think about while you do it," Ray muttered, turning the knob and throwing the door open.

Norman spluttered something that wasn't quite words, or maybe it was just squeaking. Ray smirked — because damn, it was cute. But when he turned back once more, he hated to realize that this time it was _him _almost crying; the beginnings of tears stung his eyes. He fought them off and said, "Have fun, at least."

"I always do when it involves you," Norman said. Then he opened his mouth like he'd say something else, but Ray didn't give him the chance.

Ray exited, shut the bedroom door, and drew a very deep, slow breath.

When he walked back down the hall and rounded the corner, Mama stood there waiting for him — a silent shadow blocking his path.

"Let's talk alone," she said to him.

Ray squared his shoulders and followed her. Somehow, it did not surprise him when Mama figuratively pulled out and showed him a dangerous card — the one that alerted him their next shipment date would be his own, January 15th. He didn't like it, but one thing did manage to comfort him.

While he and Mama talked, his sensitive ears picked out the sound of Norman finally leaving the bedroom and creeping down the hall to find Emma.

No matter what happened to him, at least there was Norman.

Ray would die so he would never be food; he would steal the best meal the demons could have dreamed of right out from under their noses. They wouldn't even get his brain for how well he'd ensure that it would burn.

But Norman would live. And Emma, too.

That made it all okay with him.


End file.
